


Take Your Time-Luck be a Lady

by theRougeChevalier



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clubbing, First Meetings, KidFili, KidKili, M/M, Misery Loves Company, Modern Royalty, Romance, Songfic, They're not fans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 10:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4663668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theRougeChevalier/pseuds/theRougeChevalier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins has been dragged to the club against his will. He'd rather be home reading. Thorin is stuck in the club against his better judgment.  He'd rather be anywhere else.  But as luck would have it fate has more in store for this unlikely duo.  Songfic: Sam Hunt's-Take Your Time. Misery Loves Company.  First Meeting.  Will they? Won't They?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Your Time-Luck be a Lady

**Author's Note:**

> Ladies & Gentleman! Thank you for choosing this story. It is the first one I've actually been able to finish in a while. So reviewers please be gentle with me this was written in snippets over about a four month period whenever I had the time and focus enough to string together a sentence. So the POV is a bit here and there. 
> 
> This is meant to be part of a series of song fics, illustrating unlikely first meetings and showing the unlikely ways love can grow. So yeah a slice of reality in this one, but its still cute and romantic. I suggest you listen to the song first. Obviously it has fascinated me enough to start this long project. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own or am affiliated with in anyway the Tolkien or Jackson franchises. This is purely for the enjoyment of the reader and my own stress relief. 
> 
> P.S. Think of Bree as London. 
> 
> ENJOY!

Bilbo sat awkwardly at the small high top table in the corner of the dimly lit high end Bree club. He sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time since their arrival at ‘Weathertop’ of all the embarrassing things in his life he’d have to say being dragged along to Primula’s hen party had to rate in his top 5. Primula was a beloved friend and they had grown up together and now she was set to marry Bilbo’s cousin Drogo two weeks from now and they would be family. Bilbo was Drogo’s best man and would be in charge of next week’s stag-do as well, but somehow Primula was convinced that by sheer virtue of him being ‘gay’ that meant he had an honorary place amongst her friends at the hen party. 

 

He supposed he should be glad they hadn’t dragged him into a Chippendale’s yet. But the night was still young and if he knew one thing about Primula Brandybuck it was that that girl knew how to do wild. 

 

The bride to be was currently enjoying her ‘final night of freedom’ to the fullest out on the neon dance floor grinding with her girlfriends and a few cute guys, all of whom looked a little too drunk for anything too lewd or crude, but were enjoying the loud music and flashing lights just the same.

 

Bilbo had to admit Primula didn’t do this truly to embarrass him, she only had the best of intentions in inviting/dragging him along, but she neglected to remember that clubbing wasn’t his scene. Primula was always trying to find Bilbo a ‘date’. It wasn’t easy being a single gay guy in the small town they grew up in, and although Bree was generally more open about such things it was still always tricky telling gay from straight in public places such as these that didn’t really cater specifically to one or the other. Aside from the fact that Bilbo was about as unremarkable as one could get. He was short and a bit soft in places, with a mess of auburn curls atop a freckled face. He wasn’t imagining himself to be anyone’s idea of a dream date, but he had dated before. He had been more adventurous in college, had a few casual flings and one semi serious boyfriend, but after his parents died within a few months of each other Bilbo had lost his taste for adventures and became a homebody dedicated to his books, his garden, and his work with little inclination for dating. 

 

Not that he would be opposed to finding someone to spend his life with, but he doubted a club would be the place to find a person in line with his interests. Especially, in such an upscale club as this. But for the love of Primula and because Drogo had begged him to keep an eye on her,not because she was likely to stray simply because he knew how much trouble his bride to be could cause when left to her own devices, he was here, nursing an ale and counting the hours till he could curl up with his books before a fire.

 

Thorin POV

 

Thorin sighed as he watched his companions in the booth down another shot. He had lost count after the 6th one and that was a while ago. He had done a few just to be sociable, but not nearly enough to get him drunk. Part of the benefit of being built like he was was that he could have quite a bit of alcohol without it having much effect on him also he had experience on his side. He had once been happy to party as hard as his companions currently were; when he was a bit younger, more foolish, a bit more brash, and completely naive to the hardships and responsibilities of his station. 

 

Thorin was born to wealth and privilege. Being both heir to a great fortune and a noble name meant that he could have almost anything he wanted with little more than a nod or a gesture. But where most would think growing up a Prince was like living in a fairytale, the weight of the family name, the impending responsibility of rule and the expectations of the masses were enough to crush the strongest of men.

So Thorin had rebelled in his youth as most are want to do, but for him rebelling was doing his best to make a fool of himself in public at every turn. He started young, at 16 he was already seen at all the best parties and the hottest clubs, always getting caught in compromising situations. By 17 he was jetting off to exotic locales, just living life to the fullest a young man of good means could.

His father and grandfather would scold and his mother would frown, but Thorin would just shrug it off, what was it to them if he allowed himself a little fun in life before he was inevitably forced to take on the responsibility of rule and likely forced into some political marriage, if his grandfather had his way. 

But then tragedy struck. War came to Erebor when Thorin was just 19, Thorin had just begun his required term of military service as every male in Erebor was required to do, and he had had a personal arms master since he could he walk, training in the classical martial arts as was protocol for the heirs to the throne, but he never imagined he would ever have to actually fight. 

Border disputes that had been little more than political issues for hundreds of years erupted at once into violence. Against his grandfather’s wishes Thorin joined his battalion at the front. But for all Thorin’s training in strategy, diplomacy, and self defense this was an enemy neither he nor their army were prepared to fight. The Orcs of Moria were not an organized army, but guerilla fighters and insurgents who spared no one and nothing. As soon as their forward troops put down one group two more would crop up somewhere else.

Erebor was not a large state, though wealthy and prosperous so it was not long till the Capital was sucked into the fray.

To this day Thorin is thankful for what little foresight his father had in sending his sister and mother away when the initial fighting began although he will forever regret that his brother refused to join them. 

Orc terrorists stormed the castle, and while the defenses were overwhelmed protecting the the gates of the keep some of the insurgents circumvented the defenses and entered via the back staff gate. Frerin was killed defending the castle, his grandfather who was already suffering from dementia in his royal retirement was executed in his bed chamber, Thorin’s father barely escaped losing an eye and much of his spirit. He to this day will never forgive himself for that fact that he lives when Frerin and his father did not. 

Thorin will never forgive himself for not being there and suddenly all that responsibility that Thorin had run from so avidly in his youth came crushing down upon him as he was left to lead their forces, it could not be called an attack, or even a defense, it was a retreat, plain and simple. Thorin’s duty now was to save as many of Erebor’s people as he and their remaining troops could. He led them on a hasty evacuation always weary of the advancing Orcs and their scouting parties. There was no pattern for their attack and therefore little defense. They managed to make it the northernmost port city of Erebor where they evacuated by boat, plane, and helicopter as many as they could to the Ereborian province of Ered Luin off the coast. 

It wasn’t enough, they hadn’t saved enough. 

Thorin took another shot on his own to chase down these terrible memories. 

When all was said and done, Erebor was no more, reclaimed as part of Moria and Thorin became a Prince without a country, just a province and a people who had lost everything. It fell to him and his father to rebuild on Ered Luin. They had been able to secure much aid from their allies in Gondor and Rohan. And from friendly neutral nations like Rivendell and the Shire, but their neighboring countries of Mirkwood, Laketown, and Dale would not provide the military assistance required to push back the Orcs. They saw it as too much of a risk to their own borders. 

It had been ten years since the last time Thorin had set foot on Erebor, the day Dwalin had had to drag him onto the last helicopter to leave the Port as it burned around them. And in all that time Thorin was still trying to secure allies willing to assist in the retaking of his homeland. That’s what he was doing here tonight, building relations, his father called it.

The Line of Durin was still recognized by and large as the royal family of Erebor in exile and no 1st world country worth its salt would ever do business with Azog the warlord placed in charge of Erebor by the Morian government so although he had no country he still had a title and more responsibilities than he could imagine. 

As the formal Crown Prince of Erebor he was expected to interact with other Princes and in doing so his father believed they could garner more support for their cause and more aid. Thorin was not beneath this sort of beggary for his people, but he did not see how drinking himself stupid with the stewards’ sons of Gondor and Rohan and the Princes of Mirkwood and Rivendell was supposed to help his people. It all seemed so frivolous to him now. The royal family still had wealth, but his people on Ered Luin were still much in recovery, he couldn’t walk down the streets of the city without being reminded of what they’d had, what was lost. 

Not that he was hardly ever there these days what with all his diplomatic and political missions. If watching arrogant young royals get pissed in a club could be considered such. 

His best friend and Guard Captain Dwalin observed him from his place beside him in the booth, seeing the shadows in Thorin’s eyes. Dwalin had also seen all the same horror and hardship Thorin had seen in the last days of Erebor. Had been with him for every bloodsoaked second. They had met their very first day of boot camp. Of course everyone knew who Thorin was and gave him a wide berth as he was royalty, Dwalin was the only one who treated him like a normal guy, which Thorin appreciated more than he could ever express, it was hard to have true friends when people tended to see your title first. And as a true friend who had shared what was likely the most significant time in Thorin’s adult life with him he knew that although he’d seen horror and held a yoke of responsibility no man should ever have to carry, and that a man had to let go occasionally or he would go mad. 

And if the shadows in Thorin’s eyes were any indicator that madness was coming ever closer every passing day. Most knew Dwalin to be a strong, silent, serious type, but he knew there was a time for work and a time for play and as best friend and bodyguard to Thorin he was bound and determined to teach him the difference. 

“What’s the matter Thorin? Not havin’ any fun?” Dwalin ribbed him. 

“No.” Thorin deadpanned. 

“Aw, come on to hear you tell it once you could keep up with the sons of Gondor drink for drink, but I fear ye have fallen woefully behind.” Dwalin took another shot and shot a sidelong smirk at his companion hoping to pressure him into taking a drink and maybe the challenge. 

Thorin just snorted. “This “business dinner” is a waste of time Dwalin. We both know that.” 

“All the more reason to be drunk then?” Dwalin said reasonably. “Or if you don’t want to get drunk I’m sure me and the fellas could persuade a few lovely ladies and handsome gents to join us in the booth?” He wiggled an eyebrow suggestively. 

Thorin sighed as if put upon. 

 

“Oh come on Thorin! How long has it been since you last got laid?” 

 

Thorin’s only response was a glare and a low pitched growl. 

 

“It would do ye a world of good I guarantee. Get your mind off things for a couple hours at least. You’re going to drive yourself crazy with your brooding!” He said coming to the crux of it. 

 

Thorin grumbled and pushed himself to his feet. 

 

“Oh come on Thorin, Where are you going now?” 

 

“Somewhere I can ignore you. I’m getting some air.” With that Thorin left the booth and headed down the private stairs from the upper tiered VIP lounge to the lower bar intent on heading outside for a smoke. One of the discrete royal bodyguards who had been on the door of the VIP lounge shadowed him from a distance as he made his way across the bar towards the back exit he had to skirt the dance floor to get there. Halfway across he was jostled by what looked to be a tipsy female with some sort of ‘bride to be banner’ around her torso the bump was enough to cause Thorin to have to turn a bit to the right intent on shouldering by, but the changed angle allowed him to see the tables in the back of the dance floor and that was when his eyes alighted upon an absolutely adorable man sitting alone looking just as despondent as Thorin had felt up in the booth. He was dressed in a soft green long sleeved shirt with a brown waistcoat and matching trousers sans jacket or tie. He looked as if he would be more comfortable in a cardigan, but the outfit suited his honeyed auburn curls and soft features well and he looked smart if bored as he gazed indifferently about the club simply taking it all in with intelligent observing eyes.

 

Then his eyes fell on Thorin and Thorin knew he was caught staring, but somehow he didn’t mind as it gave him the perfect excuse to go talk to him. The man was in truth Thorin’s physical ‘type’. As a young man Thorin had experimented with his sexuality and had never been short of a partner of either gender, but when he transitioned out of a life of partying his taste had changed as well and he preferred the quiet bookish types preferably male, something in him told him he needed to at least talk to this man, if only because he was breathtakingly adorable.

 

At his approach Bilbo’s eyes had gone wide and he had taken on a look somewhere between confusion and dread. Thorin was already at the table before he could wonder if he would be recognized by the young man. 

 

“Hello.” He greeted with a small smile. 

 

If possible the man’s eyes had gotten wider and he stammered out, “Goo...Good Evening.” 

 

“Mind if I join you?” 

 

I don't know if you were looking at me or not

You probably smile like that all the time

And I don't mean to bother you but

I couldn't just walk by

And not say hi

 

Bilbo could do little more than nod as the beyond handsome stranger in what appeared to be a three piece perfectly tailored and dare he guess, silk suit, pulled up the chair across from him. He had a confident smile and the light in the club bounced off his bright blue eyes making them playful and mysterious all at once, all corded muscle and dark hair. He was like something out of Bilbo’s most private dreams, but there was also something vaguely familiar about the bearded stranger. 

 

The man must have seen the question in his eyes because he put a hand to his chest and with a regal nod of his head said, “Thorin Son of Thrain of the house of Durin, at your service.” 

 

Bilbo’s eyes just about popped out of their sockets at that. ‘A Prince!’ Bilbo was talking to a real live honest to goodness Prince! Bilbo was from the Shire and although they didn’t necessarily have royalty like the great kingdoms of elves, dwarves and men, as an educated hobbit he watched the news like everyone else and the fall of Erebor had been well publicized at the time and the press was always eager for royal news and Thorin usually featured in their pieces on diplomacy and international politics. But Bilbo remembered when he was young that Prince Thorin had made the news for an entirely different reason. He was the celebrity heartthrob of Bilbo’s preteen years. He was always on all the scandal sheets in the grocery store and on the nightly gossip news his mother and Mrs. Gamgee favored. Everyone who was anyone knew of him. 

 

“Prince Thorin?!” He gasped out. 

 

“Indeed.” He answered with a sardonic smirk. It softened after a moment and he asked, “May I have the honor of your name?” 

 

“My...my name?” Bilbo was utterly confounded by Thorin even being here, in the same club, same city as him let alone at the same table asking his name, he was well and truly starstruck. It took a moment for his mind to catch up, but it did and Bilbo shook his head forcefully to reground himself. “Oh yes, of course, how silly of me, Bilbo Baggins.” He said putting his hand out to shake. 

 

Thorin took his hand looked bemused and shook it, Bilbo couldn’t help but note the strong grip. “Pleased to meet you your highness.” 

 

“Please, call me Thorin.” 

 

“Thorin.” Bilbo repeated back with a little half smile. “What brings you to the West Thorin?” He said conversationally, groping for a safe topic. He wanted desperately to ask what made Thorin come to his table, to talk to him, but he was too afraid of the answer so he decided to stick with neutral topics. Although part of him was intrigued and assured himself that because Thorin was such a public figure, a celebrity, a hero, BIlbo’s childhood heartthrob and by all accounts a good leader and a good man, the Baggins side of Bilbo’s heritage kept him anxious and suspicious of the Thorin’s motives. 

 

And I know your name

'Cause everybody in here knows your name

And you're not looking for anything right now

So I don't wanna come on strong

But don't get me wrong

 

“I am here for a diplomatic conference. And in hopes of renewing aid agreements for my people.” Thorin responded, no point in sugar coating it, he wanted to be honest with Bilbo, in the political world honesty was hard to come by and as such he swore to himself long ago that he would always remain honest in his personal life, for his own sanity. “As to what brings me to this bar, that would be my so called friends up in the VIP booth, under the pretense of a business “dinner”, but in truth I am not interested in this particular pretense and you looked like someone who was having just as little fun as me, perhaps we could both use a kindred spirit.” It wasn’t until after he finished speaking that he realized his words could very well have come off as a pick up line. And a particularly bad one at that. 

 

It was also immediately apparent that Bilbo found those words suspect as well as he took on a quizzical expression, with his eyebrow raised and his sharp eyes cutting through Thorin with a look of suspicion and a healthy dose of exasperation. 

 

Thorin almost gulped at his gaff, he had always been a smooth operator when it came to pick ups, but that’s not what this was and yet he was so much more eager to make a good impression on Bilbo then on anyone he’d ever come up to in a bar like this. He quickly backpedaled, “I’m not...that is to say I don’t expect anything, I just want to talk…” He finished lamely. ‘What is wrong with me?!’ He berated himself internally, how pathetic could he get? What was it about those eyes that caused him to trip all over himself like some untried youth. 

 

Your eyes are so intimidating

My heart is pounding but

It's just a conversation

No I'm not gonna waste it

You don't know me

I don't know you but I want to

 

And I don't wanna steal your freedom

I don't wanna change your mind

I don't have to make you love me

I just want to take your time

I don't wanna wreck your Friday

I ain't gonna waste my lines

I don't have to take your heart

I just wanna take your time

 

“To talk?...” Bilbo replied still skeptical. The Prince’s last reply had sounded startlingly like a bad pick up line, but he could see from the way he had flushed and stuttered about trying to correct himself that it wasn’t meant as such, but that didn’t mean Bilbo wasn’t still suspicious, it wasn’t everyday that handsome men were tripping over their tongues to talk to him. Especially not royalty. 

 

“Yes.” Thorin answered with a corresponding nod. 

 

“About….?” Bilbo prompted. 

 

“Whatever...you want to talk about. What do you like to do?” Thorin asked him. He sounded unsure as if he’d never had a spontaneous conversation in his life before. But then again Bilbo had to concede that trying to have a real chat with someone in a club was an unlikely scenario as any. But fair is fair, he decided thinking of it as a game of twenty questions, he’d asked a couple and had them answered now it was his turn in the hot seat. 

 

“Well when I’m not being dragged to nightclubs against my will I am typically at home reading or in my garden.” He answered casually. 

 

Thorin nodded along as he spoke, eyes never leaving his face, seeming very attentive though he offered no comment on Bilbo’s hobbies. ‘Maybe he really doesn’t know how to have a spontaneous conversation?’ He thought to himself. “What do you like?” He prompted back. 

 

Thorin blinked hard as if he had just come awake from a daze. “Yes, well I like a good book and a glass of scotch by the fire myself when I’m in Ered Luin…” 

 

“Tell me about Ered Luin?” Bilbo asked quickly. He had always been a bit of an armchair adventurer and his guilty pleasure was travel magazines and he had read an article about the thriving and beautiful island of Ered Luin with its collective of Ereborian refugees and natives that made the island a unique time capsule of cultures floating upon a brilliant blue sea. “I’ve read about it and have always wanted to go there, but I don’t travel much outside the borders of the Western lands.” 

 

Thorin’s fathomless eyes seemed to lighten at his words and he gave a little smile nerves seeming to suddenly subside. “It’s beautiful.” He answered without a thought. 

 

And with that the dam of ‘awkward’ broken they fell into a long conversation which started with Thorin talking in depth about all the great things to see on Ered Luin about dwarven culture, and his work preserving the history and culture of Erebor. Bilbo listened to every word in raptures. It all sounded too fantastical to be real and Thorin’s deep voice spoke with so much passion that it set Bilbo’s heart to race and he was swept away by Thorin’s tales, hanging on his every word. 

 

Bilbo felt drunk on Thorin’s very presence and he had stopped drinking the moment Thorin sat down at the table and neither of them had bothered to order another. 

 

And I know it starts with hello

And the next thing you know you're trying to be nice

And some guys getting too close

Trying to pick you up

Trying to get you drunk

 

Thorin could not remember the last time he had enjoyed himself so much. At first he had been a bundle of nerves afraid of making another social faux pas if he opened his mouth, but Bilbo had been patient and kind and asked the right question that got Thorin to talking about his favorite subject, his home, the one where he lived currently and the one he longed to return to some day. 

 

Bilbo’s eyes seemed to dance as he spoke and he was a great listener and not idle either, he asked questions and made noises of awe and wonder at all the appropriate places. He learned a lot about the man and Thorin found himself captivated by him. It turned out that Bilbo was a writer of adventure stories and though he had never traveled very far he was an avid fan of foreign culture and his imagination was very good. He started off his writing career, by simply writing for gardening magazines, too shy to show off his fictional works, but one of his friends convinced him to submit one of his short stories under a pseudonym. It became so popular before Bilbo knew it his adventure stories had a good following and from that had sprung an adventure series, which Thorin had heard his nephew raving about. 

 

“You are Smythe B. Barrow?” Thorin asked in surprise. 

 

Bilbo nodded shyly his cheeks reddening with a blush. “Yes I am.” 

 

Thorin grinned back. “My nephews love your stories! The elder’s only 7, but his father reads them to him and his baby brother and whenever I see him he’s always going on about it. I have to admit I wasn’t to sure about the content being appropriate for his age, but now that I know you’re the famous writer behind those books I may have to read them for myself.” Thorin teased.

 

Bilbo blushed prettily again. “I don’t blame you. 7 is a bit young for some of my work, but most of my fan base is young adult so I’m not altogether surprised. Your nephew must be ahead of his peer group.” Bilbo answered with a proud smile. 

 

Thorin laughed. “If you are insinuating that Fili is some sort of genius than I would have to argue that if he is then it's only as an evil mastermind. He and his brother Kili,who is only 2 mind you get up to all sorts of mischief if left to their own devices.” Thorin asked. 

 

“I’m sure they only do it for your attention. I’m sure they both idolize you more than a little.” Bilbo replied with his own mischievous look. 

 

Thorin smiled, feeling his chest warm from Bilbo’s words, that sounded suspiciously like a compliment. “Well I think they’ll idolize me more now that I can say I’ve met the famous Smythe B. Barrow.” He teased again. It was so easy to talk to Bilbo, to tease and to watch him fluster. 

 

Bilbo made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Oh please. I’m not famous. In fact I prefer anonymity.” He leaned in. “So if you could kindly keep my secret identity a secret I would appreciate it.” He stage whispered behind his hand and then they shared a laugh over the antics. 

 

“I will, I promise. I wish I had a secret identity. Frankly I’m surprised we haven’t been mobbed yet.” He said shifting his eyes around the bar on the look out for paparazzi or ‘royal’ enthusiasts. The last thing he wanted was to have his nice evening spoiled by a flash bulb swarm,and the last thing he wanted to do was compromise Bilbo’s privacy, but he could see his security had strategically placed themselves to intercept anyone who recognized him and became over eager. In fact he was surprised that he had been so comfortable talking to Bilbo that time and atmosphere had quickly past him by and he hadn’t thought about anything, but the charming curly haired author. 

 

He was surprised and yet so very glad they hadn’t been interrupted. 

 

And I'm sure one of your friends is about to come over here

'Cause she's supposed to save you from random guys

That talk too much and wanna stay too long

It's the same old song and dance but I think you know it well

You could have rolled your eyes

Told me to go to hell

Could have walked away

But you're still here

And I'm still here

Come on let's see where it goes

 

I don't wanna steal your freedom

I don't wanna change your mind

I don't have to make you love me

I just wanna take your time

 

“Well for what it’s worth…” Bilbo replied. “I’m glad you came here tonight.” He said with a smile. “Even though you didn’t want to be.” Bilbo truly was glad that this truly handsome and surprisingly charming Prince had sought him out tonight, and he wanted to convey how grateful he was for the company and conversation even if this were a one time meeting. And yet another secret part of his heart really wanted more than just this one conversation with Thorin. “Coming down from the VIP booth to sit out in the crowd with me must put your privacy at considerable risk.” Bilbo said having observed Thorin’s calculating eyes as he scanned the room after his comment about being ‘mobbed’, that was part of the reason Bilbo was glad for his pen name. It meant he could live his life in private, could go out in public and be just Bilbo. Poor Thorin had no such option and now Bilbo could readily see why it had been so hard for Thorin to open up in the beginning of their conversation, it really was foreign for Thorin to be ‘himself’ in public. He always had to be the public figure, never the ‘real’ Thorin, which Bilbo felt honored to get a glimpse of. 

 

Thorin smiled back at him. “It was worth the risk. I’m glad I caught sight of you. I really should thank the bride.” He said gesturing to the bar where the woman in the banner was having another shot and laughing with her girlfriends. “If she hadn’t bumped me, I never would have seen you.” 

 

Bilbo’s eyes moved to where Thorin gestured and they just about popped out of his head, he just had to laugh. 

 

It was a long chuckle and Thorin stared at him with a quizzical look and a raised eyebrow. Once Bilbo caught his breath he leaned in closer to Thorin to say, “She’s the reason I’m here tonight. Primula is my cousin’s fiance, I’m here to take care of her should she get in trouble and as the honorary gay member of the hen party.” He raised his glass in a sort of cheers before putting it back down to chuckle again. 

 

Thorin face took on a blank look that Bilbo could only qualify as some form of surprise as he glanced back and forth between Bilbo and Primula a few times before muttering, “Truly?” Before a grin spread across his face and he joined in the laughter. 

 

As their laughter trailed off Thorin leaned back and said, “Well I suppose I’ll have to send her a wedding gift to thank her for her “keen intervention”.” 

 

Bilbo shook his head vehemently. “No, no, no, don’t you dare!” He said using the all power Took finger point for emphasis. “If she finds out that she was responsible for introducing me to a handsome Prince I will never hear the end to it!” He said emphatically. 

 

“A handsome Prince huh?” Thorin said his eyebrow quirked bright blue eyes dancing with mischief and suddenly Bilbo caught another private flash of the Prince’s personality and he could completely understand his nephews supposed penchant for mischief if the look in Thorin’s eyes were anything to go by, it ran in the family. But Bilbo couldn’t speak any of his observations aloud as he was currently too busy stammering and turning into a tomato. All he could get out was, “Like you don’t know you’re good looking.” He said snarkily, using it as his tried and true defense method for such situations. 

 

Thorin laughed, but reached his hand out and placed it over Bilbo’s. The touch caused a warm tingling sensation to spread through Bilbo’s hand and quickly up his arm. It was the first time Thorin had touched him that night and Bilbo had to admit that it was a nice sensation. He realized belatedly he had been staring at their joined hands and quickly looked up to find that Thorin was also staring at them. When their eyes met again Thorin spoke in his voice like the rumble of distant thunder. “You’re right, I’ve been told of my good looks before, but it means more that you should think so.” 

 

Bilbo was starting to wonder if one could turn permanently red from blushing too much. At this rate he would at least faint from the amount of blood being redirected to his face. 

 

“But if you won’t give me your friend’s number so that I might thank her properly….” Thorin started in thankfully changing the subject before Bilbo fainted dead away from the utterly embarrassing nature of his flirting. “Perhaps you might consent to give me yours?” 

 

Bilbo blinked rapidly. That cinched it. There was no way this wasn’t a dream. He had thought it quite possible in the beginning that he was hallucinating because meeting Thorin Oakenshield couldn’t possibly be something that would happen to him, and then getting lost in cheerful conversation with him, which quickly devolved to flirting and now to asking for his number. Yes he was definitely dreaming. 

 

“I’m sorry...d...did you just ask for my...my number?” Bilbo stuttered in question. 

 

Thorin’s grin only seemed to widen. “Yes I did, I had hoped I might see you again.” 

Bilbo returned the grin finally accepting this insanity for the strange bout of luck it was and nodded. “Alright. I’d like that too.” 

 

“Besides my nephews would never believe I’d met the great Smythe B. Barrow without an autograph now would they?” Thorin teased with a wink making Bilbo laugh. 

 

What a lucky coincidence that should have brought him this lovely man for company. Perhaps the club wasn’t such a bad place to meet people after all.

 

I don't have to meet your mother

We don't have to cross that line

I don't wanna steal your covers

I just wanna take your time

Woah, I don't wanna go home with you

Woah, I just wanna be alone with you

 

I don't wanna steal your freedom

I don't wanna change your mind

I don't have to make you love me

I just wanna take your time

And I don't wanna blow your phone up

I just wanna blow your mind

I don't have to take your heart

I just wanna take your time

No, I ain't gotta call you baby

And I ain't gotta call you mine

I don't have to take your heart

I just wanna take your time, ooh


End file.
